Angels Live Below My Floor
by Aries Draco
Summary: AU, yaoi, dark themes. Kadaj is a troubled boy, keeping sane with the help of his tutor and his tutor's brother, his angels who live in the apartment downstairs. YazooxKadajxLoz. Next: bridge
1. He never believed until

Angels Live Below My Floor

AU, yaoi. Darkfic with mentions of child abuse, substance abuse and underaged sex. YazooxKadajxLoz, eventually.

::0::

He never believed until he saw them with his own eyes

They were really the sweetest guys ever. If he ever needed a place to crash, he knew he could always depend on them to open their door to him. He'd known them since he was ten, when his family moved into the apartment above theirs. At that time, due to many disruptions in his schooling, his mother had insisted on getting him a tutor. As a result, every afternoon at 3.30, he was sent downstairs to their apartment, where Yazoo waited for him.

The first time he'd seen the man, he was struck by how long his hair was and how close their hair colours were. It gave him a shock and made him think of his father. But when the tired teen had smiled at him and offered him some cookies, he just knew that Yazoo was nothing like his father. Yazoo was an angel.

He had been very behind in his work, having moved six times in the previous two years. It was somewhere during this series of moves that his mother had fallen ill. She grew sicker and sicker until his father quit his job to look after her. They'd ended up in this old apartment because it was all they could afford, with his mother's medical bills and the lack of income.

Back then, Yazoo was just applying to college and desperately needed every single available cent. Still, when he saw the condition Kadaj was in, he stopped taking on new tutees and slowly terminated his existing contracts to help the little boy, even though it meant a severe drop in income. Like he said, angel.

Soon, Kadaj was back on track with his work. He still popped downstairs to hang out with his tutor and his tutor's brother every once in awhile. There was no one at home to talk to and nothing to do. His mother was too ill to entertain him and his father only had eyes for his stricken wife.

The two of them didn't mind. If Yazoo wasn't around, Loz would entertain the kid. Loz was Yazoo's younger brother and he made the most fantastic cookies. He was also a great listener, much to Kadaj's delight, and the boy could rant on and on about all sorts of things to him and not get scolded. It was the best year in his entire life, knowing there were people he could count on.

Then his mother died.

He had been expecting it; the illness was chronic and fatal. While he had been very close to her, they'd drifted apart during her illness. During the final stages of the disease, he could barely bring himself to look at her. It broke his heart to see his beloved mother reduced to this creature lying unmoving in her bed.

She had called him the night before she passed on. He was unwilling to step into her room, unwilling to look at her withered form. But he did. And she took his hands and pressed her lips to them, even as he cringed in horror.

"I'm sorry," she told him. "I haven't been able to take care of you properly, as a mother should."

He said nothing then, even as she cried silently in the night.

She was dead by the morning. But he was already expecting that. It took him two days before he finally cried for her, bawling his eyes out in Loz's arms.

What he hadn't expected was the change in his father. While Sephiroth had never been a particularly caring father, after his wife's passing, he turned into a true nightmare. First, it had been verbal abuse and insinuations that Kadaj had been the one to kill his beloved Jenova. Then, it progressed onto physical abuse. Even in his madness, Sephiroth was careful. There were never lasting marks and most of the abuse took the form of criminal neglect.

He'd reacted by spending more and more time downstairs. Eventually, even Yazoo grew suspicious, wondering why his work never improved in spite of all the tutoring. He couldn't bear to let Yazoo think he was a bad tutor, so he spent more time out instead.

At that time, he figured that it would all blow over quickly.

It didn't.

In the two years following his mother's death, his grades slipped steadily downhill and he got involved in things he would rather not remember. His two angels downstairs suspected something was going on, but never found out. Until one day, when Loz found him desperately inhaling from a bag of glue.

He didn't realise it until they picked him up, but he was relieved to be found. He never wanted to fall so far. His father didn't even give a damn that he'd been sent into rehab, but Yazoo and Loz always found time to visit him and comfort him. They were such angels and every waking moment, he wondered if he was worthy of them.

It gave him the strength of kick the habit. Once more, his schoolwork was in shambles, and once more, it was back to tuition with Yazoo. Even though the man had become quite busy with college, he always found the time to sit down with Kadaj to explain new concepts or clarify old ones. It made moving back to his father's almost bearable.

Almost. They'd found out about the abuse of course, and tried their best to shield him, but neither of them could be around all the time. And, of course, he didn't want them to worry too much. Yazoo had school and Loz had work. Both were tired enough.

It didn't work. One night, while in the midst of explaining algebra, Yazoo spotted the cuts on his arms. He could hardly stand to see the betrayed expression on his beloved tutor's face. For the very first time, Yazoo actually yelled at him. He'd yelled back, being the stubborn fourteen-year-old he was.

"Why do you even give a fuck about junk like me? It's not like you're getting paid anymore!"

It was the first time they kissed, and, like all of Yazoo's kisses, it was harsh and passionate. The man drew back and looked at him with eyes that spoke of fear and love, of longing and loathing. "Are you answered?" Yazoo had asked, as demanding as he always was.

He didn't bother with a verbal reply. In truth, he hadn't trusted himself to speak coherently, because his train of thought had been effectively derailed and there was only one sentence bouncing around in his mind: "He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, HE LOVES ME."

Afterwards, they both felt a little bit guilty. Yazoo because he had done it with a minor; Kadaj because he'd let Yazoo believe that he had never done it before. Having found this little bit of happiness, he just couldn't risk jeapardising it. Tuition thereafter became a lot more… interesting.

They never told Loz, of course. It would have made things far too awkward.

And, for awhile, he felt that he could be happy again, safe within the wings of his angel.

::0::

Not really my style, as far as fanfiction goes, but the idea stuck. Should I continue?

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	2. Damned

I've had… bad experiences with AU fics before. It didn't sit too well with me, taking the characters and putting them in another world, then writing it like original fiction. The last few times I attempted this, I quickly lost interest. So this is really not my style. But I shall endeavour to make it as good a piece of writing as possible.

Onward.

Angels Live Below My Floor

::0::

Little by little, he feels himself damned by their love

They never told Loz, of course. But Loz had always been the sensitive one. He had a very good idea why Kadaj suddenly looked like he was walking on clouds. It was probably the same reason why Yazoo had started doodling on the margins of his textbooks. Not entirely unexpected. Kadaj had been through so much in his short life and the two of them had been close for such a long time.

Yazoo never noticed, but Loz did. Loz noticed the longing, hungry looks on the boy's face when Kadaj thought no one was looking. The way the boy's eyes would dim ever so slightly when he found that Yazoo wasn't there. It started long ago, almost right back at the beginning, when they'd first met.

Now, the need was gone. It didn't take a genius to guess why. He wasn't sure when exactly it began, but once he'd noticed it, he also noted that they wanted to keep it from him. Which was fine. The two of them were probably a little embarrassed about their relationship, just starting out, testing the bounds. Also, Yazoo would never admit that he was doing something he shouldn't have been doing. After all, the boy was only fourteen.

There was something else he'd noticed, though. He didn't catch it often, but it was there. Little, furtive glances in his direction.

He liked Kadaj. The boy was a joy to listen to when he talked about everything from food to philosophy. And he didn't mind getting his hands dirty either. When Yazoo was busy, Kadaj would always seek him out. They did a little of everything, from basketball games to cooking, from repairs to martial arts. Then, he would get those looks, those shy, half-hidden looks.

They were the two most important people in his world, his brother and his best friend. He was happy that they were happy together, because he was just a simple person like that.

It happened quite suddenly, one day, when Yazoo had to go on an out-of-town trip with his class. Once more, it wasn't entirely unexpected. Loz had come home to find the boy channel surfing, sprawled lazily on the couch in front of the television. They exchanged the customary greetings and Loz went to change out of his work-clothes. He had been repairing bicycles that afternoon and his clothes were stained with grease.

Kadaj slipped into the shower with him.

He had been the one to pick up Kadaj off the streets when the boy was doing drugs. He had been the one who sat through most of the verbal abuse. He had been the one to sit quietly with the boy when Kadaj's mood swung into the dumps. Yazoo just wasn't observant enough to pick up the little hints he did. And while he knew that his brother cared deeply for the boy, there were times when he felt like whacking the man over the head and going, 'Open your eyes! What do you think you're doing?'

But he never did, because Yazoo was stressed in his own way. Yazoo had school. They'd given up a lot of things so that Yazoo could go to school, and Yazoo had felt that it was his responsibility to do very well just to make up for it. He didn't want to burden his elder brother with too much, so he always took care of the little things. It was the least he could do.

So when Kadaj turned up in the shower with him, he merely asked, "Is something wrong?"

The boy gawked at him for a moment before turning very red. "No. I didn't know you were in here."

He was lying. Loz could always tell. He could also tell that the boy was trying to check him out discreetly. "Yazoo will be back in two days," he told the boy, stepping into the shower and pointedly drawing the curtains.

"I knew that," replied the boy, sounding a tad sulky.

"You miss him?"

"Are you kidding? It's only two days!" There was a defensive edge in the voice.

Loz peeked around the shower curtain to see the boy sitting on the closed toilet, knees tucked to his chest, throwing little paper balls at the wall opposite. "Don't do that," he commented lightly before going back to his shower. Then, the curtains were whipped open.

"Don't ignore me when I'm talking to you!" yelled Kadaj, holding the curtains open and glaring at the man inside. In spite of his show of rage, Loz could see that the boy was on the verge of tears.

"I'm listening."

In the next moment, he was greeted by arms around his neck. A little startled, he rested his hands awkwardly on the boy's slim waist.

"Kadaj, will you tell me what's wrong?" he asked softly.

"Why are you always so nice?" demanded the boy sullenly.

Nice? Well, that was certainly a matter of who you were asking. He doubted that the people he had crossed paths with thought him 'nice'. In his cycle of jobs, he had probably gained quite a few enemies. Loz's lips twitched into an ironic grin.

"I'm not always so nice," he replied honestly. "It's just that I like it when you're happy."

Kadaj detached himself, allowing Loz to look into the boy's eyes. Once more, he caught that furtive look in the moment preceding the boy's actions.

He understood, of course, that Kadaj needed plenty of attention and company. Yazoo would probably not have understood. It was hard for his elder brother to exercise empathy. He understood too that Kadaj needed Yazoo very much, much more than he needed Loz, regardless of what the kid's actions might imply.

So he returned the kiss.

Nothing _really_ happened that day, just a lot of cuddling, but it marked the beginning of something with the potential to become far more chaotic.

They never told Yazoo, of course. The man would have killed them both.

All he wanted was for the two most important people in his world to be happy.

::0::

The stage is set; the story may begin.

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	3. And his father

I'm glad some people actually like this. Though 'like' may be a little strong and rather inappropriate, considering the subject matter. Anyway, here is where the story starts to move from recounting past events to the present happenings.

Warning: Attempted rape, implied incest.

Angels Live Below My Floor

::0::

And his father brings down the house

He was feeling happy. It was the kind of happiness that had you walking on the air, with the blissful feeling that nothing could go wrong. It also scared the shit out of him, because he just knew that something was waiting to happen. As a result, he had hardly been able to enjoy the latest lull in his life.

Things had settled quite nicely since he got together with Yazoo. After the first tremulous months, all of them got used to the routine. He still lived at home, with his father, though he made it a point to spend as little time as possible in that hellhole.

That man was creepy. There were days when he never saw his father, though he just knew that the man was somewhere in their little flat. Other days, he would wake up to a rhythmic tapping on his wall. If he listened hard enough, he would hear quiet, despairing sobs accompanying the sound; he stopped listening after the first incident. There was once when he opened his eyes and found the man standing next to his bed, just staring at him. The door had been locked when he went to bed; he'd jammed a chair against the doorknob every night from then on.

Yazoo had invited him to move in many times, but he'd demurred continually. His lover probably thought that he still felt some loyalty to that psycho upstairs, and perhaps there was some truth in that, but more importantly, there was this little matter of Loz.

He loved Yazoo, really. He loved how the man led him, how the man drove him to distraction. He loved the passionate, moving kisses, he loved the intense lovemaking. Most of all, he loved how he just knew that Yazoo meant it whenever he said 'I love you'. And he knew that he loved Yazoo enough that if the man ever laid eyes on anyone else, he'd go into a jealous fit. He always felt safe in Yazoo's arms.

But Yazoo wasn't the type to cuddle. Sure, he'd do it, but it always felt a little patronising, as if the man still thought him a child. And sometimes, he just felt bad about disturbing Yazoo when he saw the textbooks and the piles of notes lying untouched on the desk.

And… well… it just so happened that someone else was there.

Loz was… Loz was like a giant teddy bear. Truth be told, he would have liked to leave their friendship alone. Though the man was only a year younger than Yazoo, he'd seemed so much more open and approachable. And cuddle-friendly. He would have left the well enough alone, just fantasising whimsically about the man (because he just looked so… huge, you know?) had Yazoo not been away that time. If Yazoo hadn't been away that time, things would be less complicated.

He knew less about Loz than he knew of Yazoo. It disturbed him somewhat, because Loz was the person whom he'd poured everything out to, yet he knew so little about his 'best friend'. He'd always just assumed that the man would be… well… innocent. The first night they spent together tossed out his entire theory. It was sheer bliss, like he was being worshipped. But where the hell had Loz learnt all that from? He hardly dared to ask.

They didn't do it often; he preferred just petting when it came to Loz. Innocent cuddling to remind him of more innocent times. He knew he could turn to Loz when he needed to be coddled.

Not that Yazoo was inconsiderate or cold or anything. In fact, the man would often surprise him with the littlest things. Like on his sixteenth birthday a couple of months ago. They were going to celebrate the fact that he was finally legal and Kadaj had really looked forward to it. He didn't expect the celebration to involve a week-long holiday to a beach resort. It was seven days with just the two of them. No school, no work, no phone calls, no nothing. He had 100 of Yazoo's attention.

Kadaj could feel his face heating up with at the mere memory. Hm… maybe he should remind Yazoo about it… Giggling slightly, he tried to turn his attention back to his Math homework. He wasn't topping the class, but he'd done quite well playing catch-up. All thanks to Yazoo's tuition. The thought of it made him crack up again. At the rate he was going, he'd end up failing the assignment.

That sobered him up. While Yazoo might be his lover, the man also took his job as a tutor very, very seriously. He just hated the disappointed look on Yazoo's face when he came back with less than stellar results. It was worse when he knew that he _could_ have passed, but had decided to slack off or something. As a result, he had a nearly perfect homework record. Nearly. Hey, he was only human!

If Yazoo had been there, he would have been lightly scolded and forced to concentrate on the assignment. It so happened that Yazoo had come home completely wiped out. One look at the man's face had made even Kadaj insist that he went straight to bed. Yazoo wasn't very happy about it, but acceded to the request after he promised that he would finish up his work at home.

So he had to finish up his work at home.

Which left him lying on his stomach on his bed, tapping a pencil against his pillow, trying to figure out trigonometry.

"Sketch the graph of sine x plus six cosine x… ah, what's this? The R formula?" he mumbled. Somewhere between his musings and his attempt to sketch his lovely tutor in the margins of his assignment, he became aware of someone else in his room.

No way. Hadn't he locked the door? A discreet glance around revealed that he had forgotten the chair. Slowly, he sat up on his bed and turned to look at his father.

"What do you want?" he asked calmly, though he was feeling anything but calm. Discreetly, he grabbed his metal ruler, gripping it tightly enough that it cut into his skin.

Those intense green eyes stared down at him, unfocused, unreadable. As they slowly focused on him, he saw it.

"You… are growing up… to be so much… like your mother," whispered the voice by his ear.

Where was the ruler? He cried out as his arms were pinned and his father pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Promising more. Where was that fucking ruler! Those calm green eyes, eyes that he had inherited, staring right through him with only one thought in mind. A hand pressed against his crotch.

He kicked out, panicking. Things like this were not supposed to happen! His father ignored his thrashings, merely pressing down harder on his wrists. A zipper. Help. He was going to be…

NO!

Not again.

Not ever again.

He drove his knee into the man's crotch and ducked away from the tight grasp.

"Kadaj, don't be such a bad boy," hissed his father, recovering way too quickly from that underhand attack. "It's not like you're not a fucking slut already."

The cold comment hit him like a kick to the chest. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. What had he been expecting?

The bed separated the two of them, Sephiroth on the side with the door, Kadaj with his back pressed against the open window. When the man lunged again, he was through the window, sprinting down the fire escape. And the psycho was following him.

He couldn't see clearly, but he was running downstairs, banging on the windows as hard as he could. The wind was frigid and he could hear his father coming down those metal stairs. Then, the window opened and he was sobbing hysterically as strong arms dragged him into the room.

::0::

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	4. Tastes like

To my reviewers: I'm very flattered by your kind comments. Thank you.

It's not going to get better yet, I think. More movement in this chapter than introspection, and a first peek at Yazoo's mind.

Angels Live Below My Floor

::0::

Tastes like a newborn dream: salty

"He did _what_?" There was a hard edge to that voice, colder than the wind sweeping over your grave. He had never truly been frightened of Yazoo before. They'd had their share of shouting matches and he'd annoyed Yazoo to the point of anger many times before, but he had never heard that tone of voice from his lover. It was pure anger and hatred distilled into a sonic blade.

Whimpering, he buried his head into the man's chest, seeking to… be comforted? To hold him back from doing something truly terrible? It didn't matter; he didn't want to think about it.

"Shall we call the cops?" Loz's calm voice was soothing and seemed to take some of the tension out of the room.

"No cops." His voice was shaking, but at least he'd made it work.

"Kadaj, that man tried to…!" Yazoo was hissing in rage, gripping the boy more tightly.

"No cops," repeated Kadaj, hysteria creeping back into his voice. "Yazoo, they'll take _me_ away too!" It hurt, the arms wound tightly around him, but he needed it. If he wasn't being held together, he just knew that he would fall apart.

"But it's wrong! It's just wrong!"

"Yazoo," once more, the level voice pierced the miasma of righteous anger. "Calm down. You're hurting him."

The tight grip on him loosened abruptly and he was drawn up to look into his lover's eyes. Those beautiful green eyes filling with guilty tears… he shut his own eyes and pressed himself to the warm body again.

"Yazoo, why don't you get Kadaj settled for bed? It's getting late and you need rest too. If anything is to be done, it can wait until at least the morning, right?" Always so sensible and reasonable.

He could feel Yazoo nodding and he raised his head to take a look. In his panic, he had forgotten about how tired Yazoo had been. It was only due to concern for him that the man was not resting in his bed. Guilt swelled up in him as he noticed that the man was swaying, just from getting up from the couch. It looked as though Yazoo was suffering one of his migraines.

All because he wasn't careful enough. How could he have forgotten the chair? It was his fault that this entire thing happened. The precarious balance of his life would now be permanently disrupted. His angels were going to find a way to remove his father from the picture. What was to come after? Would he be taken away or was he too old for that already? Would he dare to move in with his angels, knowing that he was playing them both for his own selfish desires?

In the end, he was the one who helped Yazoo into bed, crawling in after and curling up next to the man, wondering how long more it could last.

-

"Time to get up, sleepy-heads."

Both occupants of the bed ignored the voice and cuddled instead. It was just so nice and warm together like that… Yazoo's eyes shot open. He was cuddling with Kadaj and Loz was watching. Pushing the boy away, he chanced a glance at his younger brother, who merely grinned slyly.

"Don't worry, I know all about you," pronounced Loz, crossing his arms.

"Since when?!" asked Yazoo a little hysterically. And to what extent? How much exactly did his darling little brother know about his relationship with Kadaj?

"Since somewhere close to the beginning," admitted his brother. "About one and a half? Two? Years ago."

Mortified, Yazoo could only stare in disbelief.

"I'll… just leave the two of you to work this out," said Kadaj, a huge cheerful smile plastered on his face. "Gotta… get ready for school. Yea." With that, he excused himself with amazing alacrity, leaving behind an awkward silence and a staring contest.

Loz met his stare calmly, until he finally dropped his head. "Oh, God. You must think I'm some kind of sick paedophile," he mumbled into his hands. He felt the bed depress beside him but he kept his head down. How could he even face his brother? "But I really do love him."

To his surprise, he was greeted by a hug. Dumbfounded, he twisted around to look at his little brother.

Who wasn't all that little anymore.

"I know you do, Yazoo."

When had he grown up? He could still remember when Loz was a scrawny little kid, but it was difficult to reconcile that image with the man sitting by him. And even his eyes… even his eyes had grown up, growing sadder and harder, losing the once ever-present hopeful glow.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Whatever for?"

Whatever for? As he opened his mouth to reply, the front door slammed open, causing both brothers to look over in alarm.

"Kadaj!"

-

He sprinted six storeys down to the street below, heart pounding frantically. The photograph had floated in through the window; he'd looked out to see more fluttering down like snow. Even as he burst into the streets and turned around, he knew what he was going to see.

Photographs. Photos of him on his first bike, photos of the entire family, photos of birthdays, of outings, of their houses and homes; they littered the street in front of the apartment block. His father stood at the window, calmly throwing out the entire photo-record of his existence.

He was frozen in place, staring in complete and utter shock. Their eyes met. Even from the distance of seven storeys, he could feel the coldness in his father's gaze. Then, the man sneered, dropping the final item. As the photo frame shattered on the concrete, Kadaj heard himself scream.

::0::

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	5. heartless asphalt

It's been awhile, huh? I've started working, and started on an rp, so, yes, I've been bad. Procrastinating. Hopefully, this chapter will be apologies enough. It gives more insight into the relationship between Kadaj and Sephiroth, and also more insight into Yazoo's character.

Angels Live Below My Floor

::0::

His existence lies in fragments on the heartless asphalt

At the back of his cupboard was an intricately wrought custom-made gun. Loz had its twin, though he had no idea where his brother kept his. The guns were their only inheritance, their only reminder of the life they used to lead. When he heard Kadaj scream, he was torn between running for the boy and running for the gun. There was nothing that would please him more than to put a bullet between the eyes of the fucker who called himself Kadaj's father.

But Loz was behind him, and Kadaj sounded like he was in great distress, so he could only move forward, out onto the photograph-littered street.

There weren't only photos. CDs, posters, shreds of the clothes that man had torn apart and flung out of the window, bags, books… everything that belonged to Kadaj except for his furniture had been methodically destroyed and discarded. In the middle of the mess, the silver-haired boy was desperately scrabbling to pick up the pieces.

Gun. Bullet. Brain. Now.

"Kadaj!"

His brother's voice pierced the red fog in his mind. Kadaj. Nothing was more important than making sure that he was alright, not even killing the bastard who did this. He ran forward as well toward the distraught boy.

-

On his first birthday, his parents threw him a quiet party, faces shining with joy and pride, laughing with all their friends. Look at the date on this picture. They were so happy.

On his third birthday, his parents bought him a tricycle. He fell off and skinned both his knees. It was his father who cleaned him up, chastising gently, "Be brave. Boys don't cry for such trivial things." He smiled despite his tears and posed proudly with the tricycle.

On his fifth birthday, he wanted to see dolphins, and they brought him to the waterpark. It was his father who cradled him when he got tired, holding him like he was truly precious. An attendant thought it so cute that she gave them the picture as a souvenir.

On his seventh birthday, he held a birthday party with all his classmates. It was the last time they were all together, because they moved slightly after that. Everyone signed the photo, even the girls.

On his ninth birthday, he stayed up the entire night waiting for his father to come home. They never told him why he never did. He'd refused to even look at the camera.

On his eleventh birthday, he skipped school to hang out with Yazoo and Loz, because his father didn't care anymore.

On his thirteenth birthday, he was in rehab, screaming for the world to die. Perhaps it was best there was no record of that time.

Numbly, he flipped through the photos, arranging them obsessively. He barely heard his angels telling him that they'd called the cops. Just so long as they were all here, all the pictures, all the memories… Just so long as his life was here in his hands…

He'd let his angels wash and bandage his hands, but otherwise, he refused to let go of the photos. They'd moved him to a nearby café to recover, _haha, recover? From this?_

They were so happy. So, so happy. Daddy, mummy, little boy. Such a happy family.

Hands closed around his and he looked up, as if in a dream.

"You can keep them here," said the voice, strained and sorrowful. On his behalf? Who would care?

His angels. Yazoo.

Slowly, his eyes focused. He was… crying? But through the tears, he could see the metal box, and the hands guiding his own toward it. Guiding the pictures toward it.

"They'll be safe in there."

His trembling fingers finally released the death grip on the photos. Taking a deep breath, he tried to pull himself together.

His fa… Sephiroth was fucking insane. The remnants of his sanity died with Jenova. That much was always obvious, right? So these were merely the actions of a mad-man. They meant nothing. They could mean nothing. Besides, he hated the psycho.

"Kadaj…"

He knew all that. So why did it still _hurt_? Why did his father's words and actions still cut him so deeply?

"I'll be fine," he whispered, voice hoarse, not knowing if he was lying. Yazoo's fingers tightening around his.

"We've called in sick for you," Yazoo told him in a superficially calm voice. He knew his lover well enough to know that Yazoo was trying to distract him. But he wanted to be distracted.

"Don't you guys have work?" he asked, already knowing the reply.

_You're more important than that._

Suddenly, he felt entirely drained. Why was he angsting over his father, who didn't even care for him, when there were two angels here worrying themselves sick for him? Why was he being so stupid? He didn't deserve them, he really didn't.

-

At least Kadaj had calmed down. Absently, Yazoo stroked the soft silver hair, not caring that they were almost cuddling in a public place. How much was the damage done? How long would it take to heal?

What would be the best way to murder Sephiroth?

His brother caught his eye, then slowly shook his head. "Kadaj…"

"No," said Yazoo firmly. "Not now." Kadaj had stiffened in his arms, but now the boy was looking up at him with questioning eyes.

"He should know," insisted Loz.

"I said, not now."

"What?" asked Kadaj, looking from one brother to the other. Both were frowning at each other. He sighed. "It's something to do with Sephiroth, isn't it?"

Loz shot Yazoo a quick look, then replied, "Yes, unfortunately."

"Just tell me," said Kadaj very softly, exhausted. "Might as well take it all now." He leaned against Yazoo to keep the man from speaking up, and nodded for Loz to continue.

The man took a breath, as if to arrange his thoughts, then spoke.

"Your father… has been ill for quite a long while."

"Ill?"

Loz nodded grimly. "Mentally ill. He's been taking medication for it since before he married your mother."

Kadaj stared at the man. What? But… but his father had always seemed so normal in the earlier days…

"Around seven years ago, the dosage was increased by quite a bit, but he stopped taking it a year or two after the prescription."

That… that would be around the time his mother fell sick. But so what?

"Are you going to tell me that everything he's done since then is because he's sick?" asked Kadaj violently. "Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?"

"No," Loz's voice was still gentle, sad. "I thought you might just like an explanation."

"Personally, I can't forgive him," came Yazoo's voice, filled with an indescribable coldness. "Ill or not, any action carries repercussions. What he did was cruel and senseless."

"His judgment was impaired…"

"He should have known better."

Kadaj shook his head, drawing their attention back to him. "I… don't really care," he told them. "So long as I never have to see him again."

Yazoo held him more tightly at the statement, but blinked and let go when music sounded from Kadaj's being. The boy looked equally surprised, before remembering, and pulling out a cellphone.

"When did you get that?" asked Yazoo. He didn't remember Kadaj ever having a phone.

"Earlier on in the year," replied Kadaj, looking down at the ringing phone and the number clearly displayed on the screen. "One of my schoolmates lent it to me."

Before Yazoo could comment, Kadaj had accepted the call.

A schoolmate? Who would just lend out a cellphone? He watched as Kadaj took the call. The person on the other side seemed to have said something amusing, because it made Kadaj smile. In spite of what he'd just gone through, he was smiling because of a phone call. Just who was on the other side of the line? Yazoo wanted to know.

::0::

220107


	6. He opens his eyes

It was actually quite difficult for me to decide who was to be on the phone, to be Kadaj's one and only sort-of friend in school. I ran through a few options, and I came up with this. I've been dying to write this chapter ever since.

I think it's kinda obvious who the 'someone' is. If not, well, you'll find out in the next chapter.

Also some Loz and Yazoo interaction.

Angels Live Below My Floor

::0::

He opens his eyes and the world becomes a tad brighter

"And here I was thinking you'd finally decided to off yourself, bastard," came the sneering voice over the phone. Kadaj couldn't help but grin.

"You only wish, Your Maj," he replied, smirking, knowing that the person on the other end could tell that he was smirking.

"Playing hooky, then?"

"…Family problems," he said softly over the phone. His voice made it abundantly clear that there were to be no further questions. And there wouldn't be. They had an understanding.

It was quite probably the oddest relationship he had stumbled into. On his first day back at school after rehab, he was tackled during the lunch break, dragged into a closet, and threatened with death and dismemberment if he ever breathed a word to anyone.

At which he promptly asked, 'Breathe a word of what?' before realising that he had seen that boy somewhere before. Namely, at the rehab centre. Then, remembering the boy's introduction, he burst out laughing.

Since the violent method seemed to have failed, the boy resorted to other tactics, such as bribery, which explained the phone, and a general offer of services. He wouldn't have told anyway. Honestly, he couldn't be bothered going out of his way to make a stranger's life a living hell. But it was so amusing to watch that person swallow his pride and just stop short of grovelling.

They could be said to be friends. Something like that. Everyone in school thought so, anyway. Kind of a fucked up friendship based on keeping secrets secrets, but, hey, what's new? Every relationship he's been in was fucked in one way or another.

"I guess the movie's off then," sighed the voice dramatically.

"Yea, I guess…" Kadaj couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. It would have been nice to go relax with a movie. Loz and Yazoo were both supposed to be working late today, which was why he even agreed to go out. Then his fa… that bastard had to go mess everything up.

"Tomorrow, then."

"Sure. See ya."

Putting down the clamshell, Kadaj looked up to see both Yazoo and Loz staring at him. "What?"

"Your classmate must be pretty rich," said Yazoo finally. Was that… jealousy he detected in that voice? Kadaj smiled a little inside. Really now.

"Yea, he is," he replied nonchalantly. "He's the only child of the President of some weapons development company." Seeing the painfully blank look on his lover's face, he relented from the teasing. "I saw him at rehab, so he's been trying to bribe me into not spilling it to the rest of the school."

It was a useful explanation, but it wasn't strictly true anymore. It hadn't been strictly true since the party. Ah, yes, the party. That person had thrown a party on his fourteenth birthday. Kadaj had been invited because of the whole bribery thing. There had been alcohol. Plenty of free-flow alcohol, courtesy of the birthday boy's bodyguards.

Of course, it was never an intelligent thing to do, feeding children alcohol. In the course of the party, someone had suggested that they had a contest. A breath-holding contest, because after about five shots, the idea of _holding your breath_ begins to sound incredibly funny. It ended with a face-off between him and the birthday boy. They exhaled at the same time, leading to cries for a rematch.

But since it was horribly boring to watch people try not to breath, they used the other method of determining who could hold their breaths the longest. To put it simply, they made out until one of them had to quit to breath. As a matter of note, he won. But that's not the point. The point is that, from that day on, every threat rang a little emptier.

The morning after was hell in that, while he was desperately trying to convince his majesty that he was attached, the other boy was trying to convince him that he wasn't gay or 'anything disgusting like that'. Somewhere in the process of it, they decided to pretend that nothing ever happened. Still a little awkward, though. Kadaj half-suspected that the boy was still harbouring a crush,

Which would probably explain the phone.

Which would be very difficult to explain to Yazoo.

Time to change the subject. Putting the phone back into his pocket, Kadaj hugged the metal box that contained all of the photos. "Now what?" he asked. "My fath… Sephiroth has been taken away… and I doubt social services will leave me alone now." He scowled. "Fucked up laws. I'm old enough to fuck, but not old enough live alone?"

"Language, Kadaj," reprimanded Yazoo, switching into 'teacher-mode'. He caught the boy's face in his hands and kissed the pouting lips. "We'll worry about that later. The important thing is that you're safe."

"You can stay with us, of course, until anything happens," offered Loz with a small, encouraging smile.

"And we'll try our best to keep any pesky hands off you," laughed Yazoo. It didn't reach his eyes; his mind was on his gun. _Nothing_ was going to hurt his darling. Nothing. Not again, not ever again. Kadaj was too precious for that.

-

That night, after Kadaj was safely tucked into bed, Loz made two cups of coffee and they sat down to their weekly ritual, going over the stack of bills that never seemed to lessen.

"Rent's due," he murmured offhandedly, carefully smoothing out the piece of paper. He glanced up at his brother, who was clutching his head, then frowned. "You should go take your medicine."

"Yea, I should. But that makes two attacks in two days."

Seeing how pale Yazoo looked, Loz forced him to sit down before getting a bottle of pills and a glass of water. His brother took them gratefully, downing the pills, then slumping into the chair in a very un-Yazoo-like manner. It had to be bad headache.

"You should go to bed," he chided lightly.

One green eye slitted open before shutting again as Yazoo winced against the light. "Painkillers should kick in soon, and we have these things to go through. Just… read them out or something. Talk to me."

While the numbers merely aggravated him, Loz's voice was low and calm. Soothing. When the pain faded somewhat, he cracked his eyes open to watch his little brother read. The only family he was willing to recognise.

It wasn't easy to leave. They were only kids then, and it was a massive struggle to make ends meet, even with all the money they took. Housing was the biggest problem, taking almost all of their funds. And they had to find jobs that didn't mind bending the rules a little to let them actually work. For awhile, they subsisted on odd jobs. They even managed to put away some money.

Then came college. Yazoo had almost given up on going. While it was no problem getting in, it was a problem _staying_ in. He'd have had to take a loan, but he wasn't sure if any bank would give him one, since even he wasn't sure that he would be able to pay it back.

He spent many nights mulling over it, especially as the deadlines approached. That was when he started getting these headaches… due to the stress, probably? He'd actually fainted at one point in time. When he woke up, Loz was in bed with him, crying for fear and worry. After that…

Loz quit school to work full-time. For his sake, though his brother had protested that Yazoo was always the smart one and he wasn't interested anyway. He never quite forgave himself for that…

Yazoo was drifting off. Loz fell silent as well, shuffling the papers into a neat pile and putting the empty glass on it as a makeshift paperweight. He went over to Yazoo's chair and helped his brother up, in spite of the latter's protestations.

"Told you, you should have just gone to bed. I can handle this."

Yes… because Loz had always been the steady one, the practical one. And while he studied, it was Loz who kept house, who made sure there was food and clothes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into his brother's ear, as Loz helped him to a bed.

"Whatever for? You're sick, you should be resting. Like I said, I…"

"I'm sorry I couldn't take better care of you."

Yazoo was mumbling in his sleep, completely knocked out, but the words made Loz freeze. Gently, he laid his brother on his own bed, so that he wouldn't be disturbing Kadaj (who, quite naturally, took over Yazoo's bed).

There was nothing to be sorry about; all he wanted was for his loved ones to be happy. So what did it matter that he dropped school? He never liked going to school anyway. So what did it matter that he'd gone through more jobs than most graduates would ever see? It gave him an extensive network of connections, of favours he could call in.

What did it matter, so long as Yazoo made it? So long as one of them made it?

He pulled up the covers, looking down at the sleeping face. His brother's face, the brother he had always admired and loved.

"Goodnight," he said softly, pressing a kiss onto the slightly warm forehead, smiling as Yazoo settled more comfortably into sleep.

::0::

250107


	7. without his permission

Urgh. Dreadfully sorry about the late chapter, but I've been pretty much consumed by work. Even my weekends need scheduling.

Story-wise, new characters! Mystery! Intrigue! And a very small world! I do regret that Rufus is only playing a bit role in this one, but, for the plot, it has to be.

Angels Live Below My Floor

::0::

Without his permission, the world continues to turn

He didn't _need_ a fucking therapist, especially not some two bit school counsellor. He didn't need to 'talk things through' with some stranger that would probably shoot him pitying looks. Just because his father was an abusive lunatic didn't mean that he was equally fucked up. But the school insisted because of the 'trauma' he went through thanks to the bastard, even offering to have someone accompany him in case he was afraid to go alone. Manipulative assholes.

At 3.30pm sharp, Kadaj dragged his feet down the corridor leading to the counsellor's office. If he had to do this, he was going to do it quickly and get it over with. If he was lucky, the office would be empty and he could go off with the excuse that no one was there. Cheered by the thought, he raised a hand and knocked, giving whoever was inside about three seconds to respond before bursting in through the door.

The first thing that struck him was how empty the room looked. It was almost as though the school added this office as an afterthought. The walls were unpainted concrete and the room was furnished with only a desk and a set of chairs. Only the mess on the table betrayed any sign of life.

One wall was covered in a bookshelf filled with optimistic books with titles like "A Teenager's Guide to Happiness". The other walls were covered in papers. Curiosity piqued, Kadaj went over to have a closer look. They were letters, handwritten letters and hand-drawn pictures, each thanking the counsellor for her time and attention. Each had been painstakingly taped or tacked onto the concrete, though they seemed to be concentrated below the level of his neck.

What sort of person was this counsellor? Looking over at the table for clues, his eyes were drawn to the paperweight. It was a model motorcycle, highly detailed right down to the treads on the wheels, polished to a high sheen. It also looked completely out of character for this supposed 'nice lady counsellor'.

"Don't touch that," came an authoritative voice, making Kadaj jump. That was no lady's voice. Turning around, Kadaj got his first look at the school counsellor.

It wasn't anything he was expecting. Firstly, he was under the impression it would be a woman he was meeting. The person standing in front of him was definitely not a woman. Secondly, he looked young, around Yazoo's age, with punkish spikes and even an earring. Thirdly, he appeared out of bloody nowhere, holding a file and frowning like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Kadaj, I presume," said the man, walking around the boy to the table and dropping the file carelessly onto the messy desk. Kadaj caught a glimpse of his name on the cover before the man spoke again. "The only son of Sephiroth and Jenova Hojo."

It was his turn to frown. What had his parentage got to do with anything?

"Yea, that's me," he replied sharply. "Now can we get this on so that I can leave?"

Cold blue eyes met his own and there was a silent battle of wills. Kadaj looked away first, sprawling messily on the chair before glaring at the counsellor again.

"Your teachers now have nothing but praise for you," continued the man, glaring back calmly. "And you even occasionally manage to top your class."

"Tell me something I didn't know," muttered Kadaj darkly.

"You must have a very good tutor. Tell me, does he or she help you out?"

What? Eyes narrowing, Kadaj clenched his fists. "Are you insinuating that I've been getting my tutor to do my work for me?" he asked angrily.

"What do you think?" replied the counsellor coolly. Dropping neatly into his own chair, the man reached into a drawer and pulled out a set of papers. "But if you can spare three and a half hours, feel free to prove me wrong."

What was up with this guy? In any case, it would be better than pouring out his family history to this asshole. "What the fuck do you want?" he spat rudely.

-

"Aerith, I'm not ready."

She smiled at him, that same cheerful smile that just brightened up any room. "I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job," she told him gently. "Have faith, Cloud."

"Why can't you just continue? Everyone loves you," he protested helplessly, deliberately staring at the walls.

"Because I need to connect with the students again, to see their daily lives, and to be part of it again, instead of just hearing it from their mouths," she explained patiently. "I can't help them if I don't know them."

Then she wheeled over to him and forced him to look at her. "Have faith," she repeated, smiling softly. "I know you can do it."

When he looked down at her face, he just knew that there was no way he could refuse.

Not even if his very first student was Sephiroth's son.

-

"…and he seriously kept you in there for three and a half hours doing multiple choice questions."

"And one essay," added Kadaj sullenly. He flung his empty can across the floor, watching as it clattered noisily to a stop against the opposite wall. "But it should probably shut him up. That asshole."

They were on the rooftop, a place that was technically out of bounds, but somehow, the name 'Rufus Shinra' made rules like that just _go away_. Besides, it was a nice, quiet place, perfect for doing work or just slacking off. Kadaj spent most of his time here when he wasn't with his neighbours, or if both of them were working late. He never wanted to go home, even if he had to. Well, now he had no more 'home' to return to…

Burying his head in his knees, Kadaj made a frustrated sound. "I don't see why I need a therapist _now_ of all times," he snarled.

"Personally, I'm just surprised they didn't get you earlier," replied Rufus, smirking faintly. He leaned casually against the wall behind them and sniggered when Kadaj turned to glare at him.

"Well, that's because, unlike _someone_, I've been a very good boy," declared Kadaj, smiling a little now. "The teachers all _love_ me."

"All but that psycho gym teacher."

Kadaj made a face. "Don't even remind me!"

They stayed on the rooftop until well after sunset and, by the time Kadaj went home, he'd forgotten all about the therapist and the test.

-

Kadaj practically tore up the steps when he realised how late he was. It was all Rufus's fault! _Come on, I'll give you a ride home._ In bloody rush-hour traffic. _Next time you want to do me a favour, send me home in a fucking helicopter!_

Fuming and worried about Yazoo's reaction, he didn't notice the person coming down the stairs until he ran right smack into him. Momentarily unbalanced, Kadaj would have fallen if the man hadn't caught him. Fingers clutched at the man's clothes and form as Kadaj tried to steady himself.

"Watch where yo…" he was about to snarl some nasty expletives at the man when it occurred to him that he had never seen anyone like that around the apartment block before. A red scarf casually covered about half his face, while the other half was obscured by long, black hair.

Finally realising that he was _clinging_, Kadaj pulled away, inadvertedly yanking loose the scarf. Before he could take a good look at the man's face, though, the guy snatched the scarf back and brushed pass the boy. Still, Kadaj saw enough that, had it not been for the spiffy suit, he would have thought the man a junkie. Normal people weren't so gaunt or pale, right?

Something tickled at the back of his mind. He was pretty sure he'd remember such a unique character if they'd ever met, but he didn't. Yet there was that feeling… that he'd seen the man somewhere before…

The door opened and Yazoo poked his head out.

"Kadaj!"

Still slightly dazed, Kadaj looked up at his tutor. "Sorry I'm late," he managed to say, taking the remainder of the steps two at a time, grinning like a madman. "But I'll make it up to you. Promise."

Yazoo didn't return his smile. Slowing down and frowning slightly, Kadaj noted that Yazoo's face was white. "Yaz…?"

"Come in quickly," said the man tersely. "There has been someone asking after you. I don't know if he's still around."

Someone? Were they going to take him away? Disturbed, Kadaj followed Yazoo in and hoped that things would be ok.

::0::

310307


	8. He doesn't want to know

A/N: Plot, meet readers. Readers, meet plot. Plot's a little shy, but you will be seeing more of him soon. This chapter is more of a bridge, I guess… apologies for ending on a cliff-hanger.

Angels Live Below My Floor

::0::

There is so much he doesn't know; he doesn't want to know

"Yaz, you ok?" Kadaj sat next to his lover, running his fingers through the silky silver hair. It was slightly damp, like it usually was when they were pursuing more pleasurable activities. But at this moment, it was a sign of stress, of sickness. When Yazoo just collapsed into him, Kadaj knew that something was really wrong. "Yaz…"

"Someone came by earlier, looking for Sephiroth," said Yazoo quietly, obviously exhausted.

Kadaj held up one finger to his lover's lips. "No, you can tell me later," he said firmly. "First, you're going to have some water, then you're going to have a shower, and, if you feel a little better, we can talk over dinner."

A slight smirk crossed the man's lips. "I must look like crap right now if you're saying that."

"Unfortunately," agreed Kadaj, grinning. The grin became a frown when he realised how hot Yazoo felt. "Are you sick?"

"Unfortunately," echoed Yazoo jokingly. "That's why I got sent home early today." Kadaj didn't need to know that he'd actually passed out in the teacher's lounge and had to be literally sent home. These migraine attacks had been getting more and more frequent. On top of that, he'd gone and caught some virus that was making his throat scratchy and his body ache.

But it was only because he was back early that he had the fortune… or misfortune of meeting that strange man.

"Sit still, I'll get you a drink," commanded Kadaj, wagging his finger in a mock stern fashion. Yazoo had to smile. It was too cute.

It was going to be taken away if he wasn't careful.

-

Someone was looking for his father. His hands trembled slightly as he picked up the glass and he was glad that Yazoo wasn't around to see it. The timing could only mean one thing: they were coming to take him away. Whoever 'they' were. Did he even _have_ legal guardians in case anything happened to his parents?

It wasn't something you'd usually discuss, right?

-

The knock on the door surprised both of them. Motioning for Kadaj to stay in the kitchen, Yazoo went over and opened it. A mess of black spikes greeted him. What? Blankly, Yazoo began to shut the door, only to be greeted by an indignant cry from somewhere amidst the mess.

"Hey, hang on! Can a guy have a break after climbing all those stairs?"

The mess of spikes resolved itself into a person as the man straightened up, leaning heavily on a walking stick. On catching sight of Yazoo, the man stumbled backward slightly. "Whoa, thought you were him for a moment," he muttered.

"What is it?" demanded Yazoo finally, frowning at the man. "Who are you, why are you knocking on my door?"

The black-haired man seemed to sober up a little at the statement. "Ah, well, you see, the apartment above yours? It's been broken into," he told Yazoo. "And I was wondering if you'd know where the occupant has gone."

"Broken into?" came Kadaj's voice from over Yazoo's shoulder. "What do you mean my hou…"

"Kadaj! I told you to stay in th…"

"Kadaj?"

The two men fell silent upon the boy's appearance. Then the black-haired man began to speak. "Yea, I was up there looking for, well, you, but then I saw that the door was torn from its hinges," he explained. "So I got a little worried and took a look inside. The place has been ransacked."

Looking for… him? Oh fuck. So he had just given himself away? Kadaj took a deep breath, reaching for Yazoo's hand. "Who are you?" he asked, addressing the man, mustering up a glare.

A slight grin appeared on the man's face, though it didn't reach his eyes. "The name's Zack. Zack Fair. And, according to this letter, I'm supposed to be your new legal guardian."

-

The apartment was intact, if messy. Someone had gone through all the drawers and shelves, as if looking for something. Kadaj was busy checking the things to see if anything had been stolen, though it wasn't as though they had anything to steal. Yazoo, however, was staring at the front door.

It had been ripped nearly off its hinges.

Firstly, while these doors were never known to be particularly robust, they weren't exactly easy to destroy. His own door had suffered several devastating kicks when there was no one home and he'd left his keys. Sure, the locking mechanism was somewhat mangled by the mistreatment, but the hinges have always held. It would take some incredible amount of force to wrench the door open like that.

Secondly, he was downstairs the entire afternoon, and he didn't hear a thing.

Oblivious to his lover's growing discomfort, Kadaj went through the many things strewn about the apartment floor. Just as he thought: there really was nothing worth stealing. His mother's old books on neuroscience and psychology, various papers and magazines, and a photo album here and there…. He hadn't looked at all this stuff in ages.

They were old albums, from back before he was even born. Made sense, considering that his psycho father had just recently tossed out all of his photos. Flipping through one randomly, Kadaj noted that he did indeed look very much like his mother when she was younger, except that he had inherited his father's odd, bright eyes. Staring at the photographs, he could almost pick out every of his features from his parents' face. It gave him the shivers.

Looks were not the only thing children inherited from their parents. What if he…?

"Kadaj, let go back downstairs," came Yazoo's voice suddenly, tense.

Questioning, Kadaj turned around to see Yazoo just stepping out of his father's room. Sephiroth's room.

"What's wrong?" asked Kadaj, going over. Before he could even peer inside, Yazoo had forcibly relocated him back to the front door. "Yazoo!"

"The guy calling himself Zack Fair is still waiting downstairs," Yazoo explained. "We should deal with him quickly and be done with him. You can come back up anytime, you know?"

Kadaj hugged the photo album, giving his lover a skeptical look. "Was there something in there that you didn't want me to see?" he asked, letting the album go and flipping it open randomly. He leaned on the wall right next to the door and his posture indicated that he wasn't going to move until he got an answer. Zack Fair could bloody well wait.

Fortunately, for Yazoo at least, Kadaj chose this moment to notice that a photograph was missing.

-

Here he was sitting in some stranger's house waiting for Sephiroth's kid to come back downstairs. He wasn't stupid, nor was he blind: he could tell that he wasn't welcome. So why was he still waiting? After all, this was _Sephiroth's_ kid. Sephiroth: the man who destroyed the world.

Then again, was that any reason to hate the child?

He wasn't the first person they contacted, but he was the only one who replied. He hadn't wanted to at first, but in the end, he was a good guy at heart, and he felt some pity for this unwanted child. Only, it seemed that Kadaj wasn't so unwanted after all.

Which meant that there was really no need for him to be here. There was no need for him to bring that boy home.

No need to keep seeing those glowing eyes…

He heard the footfalls, but heard no hurry or reluctance in their beat. Neutral. The door opened, admitting Kadaj and the other man.

"What do you know about my father?" asked the child, fear apparent in both his voice and that all too familiar face.

Zack considered the question solemnly, missing his usual cheerful smiles. "I don't think you want to know."

::0::

140507


End file.
